Falling
by Kathy376fun
Summary: In an ironic twist of fate, the final battle became the start of a war, and she became the next saviour. But the question is, will she be able to stop him from falling, or will he drag her with him when he falls? And if he does, will she be able to stop falling? Or will they keep falling for ever, until there's nothing left to save? A rather different time-travel story Tomione/TRHG
1. Even perfection has it's imperfections

**A/N: this started as an English exercise and ended as a word document of twenty pages, and not even nearly finished. It will be seven chapters. I'll post another one this weekend. Enjoy and please review.**

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"Miss Granger, care to explain the early hour?"

"Well, you know what they say, Mr. Riddle; the early bird catches the worm"

"And which worm do you intend to catch, ms Granger?"

It calls itself Lord of all snakes, and will bring death to all who are not. I intend to make him meet death first.

"Health, wealth and wisdom, Mr Riddle" is what she says instead.

"Oh, of course," and he ads "just like yesterday, and the day before?"

"That is correct"

"So, why, pray tell me, did you go to the bathroom on the second floor? I was not aware that anything useful could be found there"

He knows. He always does.

"Ask no questions and hear no lies, Mr Riddle"

"But I think I will, ms Granger. And you should be warned. The more one knows, the less one believes."

"Well then, in that case, I think ridding you of your knowledge is my best shot"

And before he can respond, she uses the spell she has come to master so well in the last few months.

_"Obliviate"_

XXX

She keeps reminding the day everything changed. She remembers even the smallest details, details she does not value, details she wishes she could forget.

But she can't. When something of that magnitude happens, it shall be etched in your brain forever.

That is one of the most painful things she learned during war.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, can ever be forgotten.

The faces of those lost, the cries for help, the raindrops trickling down your cheeks, pretending to be tears.

The flashes of green light, the dry thumps marking yet again another victim that death has come to claim.

It all stays with her

To haunt her

_Forever_

XXX

"Miss?" he asks, "are you alright?"

It really is unfair, she muses. That the devil takes the shape of an angel.

But then, she never has seen an angel. No such thing seems to exist in this cruel world. So maybe, this shape is the shape all devils take, and only the ones who still foolishly believe mistake it for angel shapes.

"Miss?" the boy who is not an angel echoes again.

"Oh, I am perfectly fine" she reassures him.

He smiles, and it's the first beautiful thing she has seen in a long time.

But, underneath that angelic beauty, there are tiny cracks, as she knew there would be.

Cold eyes, lips just too strained, teeth shown a little too bright, and cheeks forced just too high.

Even perfection has it's imperfections, apparently.

She smiles in return.

And cold eyes clash with even colder ones.

Both equally empty.

XXX

It was a cold, rainy day.

She had woken up exactly at 7:39.

Her breakfast had consisted of stale crackers and awful mushrooms.

And it had tasted wonderfully.

XXX

Graduation is a quiet affair. At least, it is for her. With no parents, and no friends how could it be anything different?

While her housemates party, she wanders empty corridors.

Empty, empty, empty is the chant that her head takes.

They were not always empty. Normally they bustled with live. After today however, the train would leave, and they would not come back.

And the corridors would be empty, save for the paintings.

Almost .. lifeless.

Lifeless, lifeless, lifeless

Images force their way up, and she sees full corridors, with bodies piling up, blasted walls, and portraits empty of their occupants, now painted red.

And there, right there, lies someone she knows too well, and no, no it cannot be, but it is, and she tries to resist, but the memories are too strong and they are pulling her under, and she is getting closer, and closer to the body, close enough to see lifeless eyes, close enough to see that all that rests of her beloved one is an empty shell and she sees the face, god that face she knows too well and-

"Miss Granger?" a voice asks quietly

Only now she realizes she has sagged against the wall, and is hugging her knees and rocking back and forth, choking on her sobs.

She flings herself into his arms, not caring who he is, and not caring that he will not accept her embrace, only wanting to forget.

So she can't help but be surprised when she feels hesitant arms wrap around her, and hears a voice, that is- maybe for the first time it has been used- genuinely trying to utter comforting words.

Her next tears are not only for her hideous past, but also for his.

Later, when she is alone again, she will realize that since that day, it was the first time she had cried for someone else.

And she will feel so guilty, she will cry all over again.

XXX

"You may leave now, boy. She is safe in my hands"

No, I am not. When have I ever been? Maybe once, long ago, but I was never really in your hands then, was I? Just as I will not be this time.

But she has learned to not voice her thoughts anymore. So she smiles, and it comes out twisted and distorted.

The boy notices and gives her an appreciative glance.

Collateral damage. That's what she was.

Then again, maybe so was he. Maybe they all were.

He turns around and stops, to turn again.

"Oh, and the name is Tom. Tom Riddle" and he gives her a smile.

He says it like he expects her to remember him. What he doesn't know is that she would never be able to forget, even if she wanted to.

"Lovely to meet you, Mr Riddle. I am Hermione. Hermione Granger"

Why bother with a false name, if what she wants to do is change the future, instead of preserve it?

"Hermione Granger" he repeats, and his tongue caresses the words, "the pleasure is all mine"

She smiles, a wide, big smile. One she didn't knew she was able to smile anymore.

Oh no, Mr Riddle, the pleasure will be mine, after all what greater pleasure is there than killing you, and looking into your empty eyes, instead of in those from-

"Miss Granger?"

He has left, she notices. But _he _is still there. She can't decide which one she prefers.

Are they not both bringers of death?

He looks worried, so she smiles again.

"Everything is fine, Professor Dumbledore"

Perfectly fine

XXX

She was wrong.

She does not likes to be wrong, and she seldom admits it, but this is one of the occasions in which she has no other choice.

She was wrong, and yet she was right.

There is still some goodness in him. His soul maybe torn, but it's only torn once, and not in two equal pieces. Ninety percent of his soul is still intact.

And she sometimes manages to see it, while he talks. When he _really _talks, using his voice, instead of the smooth, velvet tones others hear.

His real voice is not smooth, and not velvet. It is sad sometimes, but mostly angry. It can be still, but uses to be loud, and it is unpleasant to listen to.

And she feels privileged when he lets her hear it.

But, how will she ever be able to make his good side take roots inside him, when she has so little goodness left?

Will she be able to stop him from falling, or will he drag her with him, when he falls?

And if he does, will she be able to stop falling?

Or will they keep falling for ever, until there's nothing left to save?


	2. An ironic twist of fate

**A/N: As promised, next chapter. The story is practically finished, so more updates should follow soon. Enjoy, R&R and please do review.**

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They talk for hours. He listens, mostly, while she does the talking, and she has to cut off some sentences last minute to give nothing away. Luckily, cutting off sentences in a distressed state is less suspicious than in normal conversation, but still, being careful is the key.

Otherwise she could be lulled to sleep in her enemy's arms.

He listens, very attentively, and offers little words of comfort, and for that, she is grateful, because her sadness runs much deeper than she lets on, and she would only get riled up from hearing not comforting things.

He probably understands.

Still waters run deep, after all, and she has never known two people with more secrets than them.

XXX

Her dreams brings her back to the corridors she wandered and to the bodies she saw.

She always wakes up before she reaches the end, a bit like Harry in her fifth year.

In an ironic twist of fate, the final battle became the start of a war, and she became the next saviour.

XXX

The bits he says all revolve around Hogwarts. About how much he is going to miss it, about the fact that he wants to return, that he wants to teach, that he likes the grounds and the classes.

She picks up the hidden meaning behind his words.

She picks up that he isn't ready to utter a definitive goodbye, that he was happy here, and that Hogwarts was his _home._

And once again she wonders, how he could so easily destroy something he cared so much about.

It's a trait that comes naturally to all humans, apparently.

She can't even exclude herself.

If she still had hope, this would be the moment she lost it.

It's a good thing then, that she cannot lose it anymore.

_Isn't it?_

XXX

After breakfast, she and her companions had left the safe house.

Lately she had not even bothered to look at the calendar.

Every square on it symbolised another day they could die, and another day this endless war dragged on.

It had been pure coincidence that had her glance drift off to it, after checking the time.

The hour was eleven o clock, exactly.

And with the date she learned another lesson.

War never stops and never ends.

Not even on 11.11, armistice day.

XXX

"Maybe we should place a memory charm on them"

_Obliviate, Obliviate, Obliviate_

Doesn't he get that she's tired of using that charm?

One look at him tells her that he knows, but that he also knows that she's the best, and that he needs her.

He opens his mouth, maybe to tell her that she does not have to, maybe to plead.

She quickly places the spell on the Death eaters.

He looks battle-weary, and torn, and he has more scars than she and _him_ combined.

His name still hurts her, but she knows he's safe now, just like she is, and so it's good, she tells herself. Just like her parents, just as the family she has come to see as her own.

It's her duty to keep them safe. It's their duty.

"Thank-you, Hermione"

"Always, Harry"

She would die for him, and he for her.

What's a simple _obliviate_ compared to that?

Even though it pains her more than he'll ever know.

XXX

She had changed her mind. After she had cursed him that day, she had decided to keep her distance. And after graduation, after they had talked, she felt even less inclined to kill him.

Her old self may have ventured into the what-if-path. What if I change him?

But Hermione did not believe in change anymore.

Even if she did, she would not be so arrogant as to believe that she was the one who could realize him changing.

Killing someone was easy. Two words, twelve letters. _Avada Kedavra. _It was a curse, that against her initial hopes and believes, was no longer foreign to her.

He was not the only one with a torn soul.

She was a murderer, and a hypocrite.

But above all, she was broken.

How could she save someone else, when she couldn't even save herself?

And that was the reason she let Tom Riddle go.

She was afraid. Afraid that she would cause more harm than he. Afraid that his destruction would be her fault. Afraid to maybe face lifeless faces, who all blamed her.

XXX

As it turns out, sometimes fate was on her side.

Five months later she ran into a certain Tom Riddle in Diagon alley.

And Hermione Granger may be afraid, but she was never a quitter.

So when an opportunity is thrown into her face, she latches on to it with both hands.

"Would you like to have coffee with me?"

She expects a no. She is stunned when he agrees.

He does not agrees with whole sentences of velvet words, instead he says only two, and he seems more stunned than she is.

"I would"

She can't save him.

But maybe, just maybe, she can keep them both from falling long enough for someone else to save him.


	3. The forming of an idea

Taking coffee with him was.. uh.. honestly, awful.

Awful, awful, awful.

They had gone to a small coffee shop right next to Borgin & Burkes, where they sold the most disgusting coffee to ever exist.

They had sat down, and exchanged the expected pleasantries.

How are you? I'm well, you? Well enough, thank you"

Awkward silence had ensued.

He was a very closed of person, who never had had any friends.

She wasn't able to look at him without seeing a snake like man with cruel, crimson eyes.

After drinking their coffee they had exchanged some more dumb sentences

Lovely seeing you. Yes, you too. Well, we should do this again sometime. Definitely. Translation: let's never do this again.

He had left in a hurry, and she had stayed behind.

She had stayed behind.

XXX

"No, no, NO!" Hermione screamed, sobbing loudly.

They had entered the building five hours ago. A grey building, with tiny white spots and some plant that looked desperately in need of water.

It had been dusty inside, and so very cold. Almost.. _too _cold. And dark. Until the flashes appeared, that is.

Five long hours.

For a job that supposedly only took one minute.

The plan was easy: get in, steal the document, get out.

She did not even remember what was in the damn document.

All she knew was that it was not worth the price they were paying.

"Hermione, we need to go" the person restraining her said.

"I'm not leaving without him!"

"We have to! Or we will die too. Hermione-"

"No, no! He is not dead, Lupin! He is not dead. Do you hear me? Harry is not dead"

"Hermione, listen to me-"

"No, NONONONONONONO-"

She heard the sound before she felt the pain. When she looked in the mirror tomorrow there would be a red mark taking the form of a handprint.

"Listen to me, Hermione. Harry is dead, Tonks is dead, Dumbledore is dead, Moody is dead. You need to deal with it. Fred is gone too, Sirius is dead, Luna is dead, Neville is too, Percy is dead, Hannah is gone, Your parents are obliviated, Ro-"

_"_No!" yanking herself free, she turned and pointed her wand at him "_Crucio" _she said, and she felt so good when she he heard him scream.

Feeling good lasted for about one millisecond.

Next moment she was dropping her wand and stumbling backwards, away from him.

"No, no.. I-" choking on her words, she turned away from the building, and ran, and she kept on running.

XXX

So she sits here now, sipping the rest of her coffee, thinking about the utter _failure _her life has been.

How she hasn't been able to save anyone.

And how she will not be able to.

Lifeless eyes will haunt her forever, blame etched upon their faces, a never changing expression while they slowly decay...

"Miss Granger?"

He stands next to her.

"I just wanted to-" he pauses, and runs a hand through his hair. Something she recalls, he only does when he's really agitated, "I.. thank you. For.. for your company. Can we do this again some- sometime tomorrow?"

She feels herself smile, because there is something so utterly adorable about him, master of words, stuttering nervously like that. And she is grateful, that he still shows her that honest side of him.

"I would love to" is her reply.

He leaves shortly after, looking relieved, and she thinks she knows why.

Because it's hard to show a stranger your weaknesses, to be stripped of any protection, to leave your emotions bare.

But once that step is taken, the stranger becomes more than a stranger.

Sometimes a friend, sometimes an enemy.

And if the stranger becomes a friend, the urge to go back becomes harder and harder to fight.

Everybody needs a listener.

He became hers, and she became his.

XXX

"I forgive you"

He lays her wand next to her and pauses at the door, as if to say something else, but decides against it, and leaves.

She has heard it all already.

You needed to blow off some steam, it's normal, it's perfectly fine

But it's not. It's not perfectly fine, Lupin! I cruciated you! I, knowing how it feels, _willingly _put you through that, I pointed my want at you and I said that word and I _wanted _you to hurt, I needed you to, because you were hurting me, and I, I just wanted you to stop, but that's no excuse, it's no excuse, and how could I, and what says that I won't do it again and-

"Hermione, dear?"

Molly Weasley stands in the doorway with a sandwich tray.

The sandwiches were made of marmalade and cheese and there was soup downstairs if she wanted some.

She didn't.

It was 18:56 when she realized she was the sole member of the Golden trio left.

And it was then an idea started to take form in her mind.

XXX

He smiles down at her too, and briefly touches her face before he leaves.

She's not entirely convinced that it isn't all an act, but experience has taught her to trust her instincts.

They tell her it seems okay.

That gives her a feeling she's rather unaccustomed too.

Once upon a time, she might have called it

_Hope._


	4. Empty words, meaningless descriptions

**A/N: Well, here is the next chapter, and I'm seeing that my story hasn't much success, but come on people, please tell me why! Is it too unrealistic, too OOC, too dull,... Please, please review and I promise I'll read at least three of your stories and review them myself.**

**Without further ado, enjoy (or not)**

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He's even lonelier than she is.

Sure, he has his followers, but they are pretty much worthless company.

They fear and admire him so much that they don't dare to converse with him.

Maybe that's all he needs.

A simple conversation.

She knows that's all she needs.

And so, she ignores the side that tells her it's time to actually _do _something.

She just smiles, and talks.

Because she hates being lonely.

And right now, he's the only one she's got.

XXX

It is simply unfair.

Unfair that one person can force so many to do dark magic that no one should ever have to do.

When Draco Malfoy drags himself to her, and starts crying in her arms, she marvels at the way he has changed.

He cries and cries. He confesses to being afraid all the time, and he tells her that his mother has been killed.

By his father.

While he had to try to resist the imperius curse.

And Draco was being held back by Bellatrix Lestrange, who did not even flinch when Narcissa Malfoy fell dead to the floor.

Lucius Malfoy killed himself that same night.

Hermione listens, as she has come to learn lately, without interrupting.

When Draco has fallen asleep, she makes sure that the order knows the deal with him.

Later, she goes upstairs and stares at herself in the mirror for three hours, wondering when blood stopped mattering and losses and pain slowly started to take over the ideal world in their mind.

She wonders how it is possible that mad men can keep forcing their troupes to fight battles they don't believe in.

The old question arises: 'If you knew who Hitler would become before everything happened, would you put a bullet through his head?"

And even after everything Hermione has seen and done, she still hesitates.

XXX

She's wandering the same corridor again.

But this time, she can't seem to wake up.

And her dream brings her nearer and nearer to that corpse.

She is fighting, and fighting and begging to a deity, any deity to please, please let her wake up.

She should've know not to bother. Wasn't it obvious that if there was something as a God, it had already proven to be against her?

She reaches the end of the corridor, and she sags down on her knees, and reaches her hand out to the face of the person she has always loved.

And then she wakes up, with her hand still reached out and his freckles and his smile and his red hair clearer in her mind than ever since that night.

For the first time she cries, and for the first time she allows herself to think about him, to speak his name.

So, she does, and it echoes in the silent dark room.

_"Ron"_

XXX

Draco Malfoy falls down next to her.

Dead.

Her companion, the one who stood by her, never left her side since that awful day.

The day they lost two but won one.

They had talked, and talked for hours, for days, for weeks, for months.

She hears someone cackle, a way too familiar laugh, that makes her relive pain in her skull, daggers in her chest and a word carved into her arm.

Rarely she thought about that moment. She had suffered things way worse since that night.

Only sometimes it came back to her, as an old nightmare, distant and dulled.

Now, however the pain is much too real.

She turns away from just another body, from someone who never meant something to her.

Because he _can't _have meant anything to her_ . _Because she will die if she gives him too much thought. Because she has to shut down her pain and emotions and only operate on the instinct of survival.

And yet, she finds herself pursuing his killer, in search for revenge.

He had apologised for his excessive, careless use of that word.

Apologised, because he never had really understood the meaning behind it, until he was facing an old man in an abandoned tower.

Until someone's obsession with that word, and with blood purity took form in a green flash coming out of a wand, and hitting said old man straight in his chest.

Until they all heard a dry, sickening thump when he fell to the ground, a sound they would from now on, always associate with the ending of their childhoods, and the start of a war.

_Is the little Mudblood mad at me? Did my filthy nephew _mean _something to her? Does she wants to avenge his death?_

More laughter.

Bellatrix doesn't even bother defending herself, why would she, when she knows Hermione Granger is to weak, and to good to use the needed words?

That is her mistake. Never should someone underestimate the strength the dead of a loved one brings.

Uttered words, a flash of green light and a surprised look later, Bellatrix Lestrange lies on the ground.

She had used the two words she had sworn she would never use.

And yet, she had.

_Avada Kedavra._

XXX

It isn't until much later that Hermione breaks down in guilt.

Guilt for partaking in such offence against nature, for taking someone's life, no matter how many lives that someone had taken before.

And guilt for killing that tiny, little unblemished part of her, that was the only one able to survive until now.

Everything has to end, she knows now. Everything and everyone.

Looking into the mirror, with broken haunted eyes, she wonders

When it will finally be her turn.

XXX

Usually words were empty.

When someone described her, it were always the same ones.

_Lovely, caring, brave, smart._

Empty words, used on millions of people, who all were the same.

They were lovely, caring, brave and smart.

If someone asked her to describe herself, she would only use two.

Two very fitting words.

Broken and haunted.

It is funny, that once upon a time, she would've used those words to describe _him_, not her.

But when he sits beside her, comforting her while she cries, because she just can't seem to stop lately, she realises she is more broken and haunted than he'll ever be.

And in a way, it is his fault, off course.

In another way, however, it's hers.

Because she tells herself she'll give him a chance, a shot at redeeming.

She never does. She distrust every word he says, every action he takes, every look he gives her.

How can she expect him to open up to her, if she isn't ready to accept him when he does?

And for the first time she wonders, if maybe it will be not her stopping him from falling, but rather they stopping each other.

She doesn't know which possibility scares her more.


	5. It is time

It is 19:30 when she decides to go for a walk.

A walk, that will change her future forever.

And maybe his past.

XXX

31 December. Last day of another year gone by, and more importantly, his birthday.

So she forces herself to say, even though it is not meant at all

_Happy birthday._

He stopped asking her how she knew those things a while ago. Now he regards her with a frosty glare.

"Why? It's just another year closer to dead"

"How can you say that?" She asks, because even though she knows how, she can think of a million people she would wish to have another birthday and he's not one of them.

"It's the truth."

She opens her mouth, and closes it, only to open it again and to close it in the end. She turns around to walk away.

"Go on. Just walk away again. Like you always do."

She freezes. Because she knows it's true, and because she knows it's _time._

So she turns around again, to face him this time, and speaks, really speaks for the first time in a long, long while.

"Death is nothing to be afraid of, Tom"

"You don't know anything about me"

On the contrary, Tom Riddle. I know _everything _about you, about your past and your future. I just don't know _you._

"I know that you are even lonelier than I am. I know you hide behind your masks. I know you grew up in an orphanage without mother or father or anyone and I know you are afraid of death."

"Right, right, right, wrong. Oh, my, no full marks for the brilliant miss Granger this time" he speaks sardonically, while he advances upon her.

"My mother left me in that orphanage. She left me, all alone, and _chose _to die. So, no, I am not afraid of death. I just despise it"

His impassive mask is gone, replaced by fury. But she welcomes it, because she knows that when he is furious he speaks the truth. And she thinks she understands now.

"Why do you say she chose to die?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not having this conversation with you. Go bother someone else"

"Why do you say she chose to die?" Hermione repeats, a little more forcefully.

"Because she died in a _Muggle-_orphanage, Hermione. She died, and left me there all alone, so I could be there eleven years, without even knowing who or what I was. She died, instead of using magic to save herself"

Magic had been his saviour, and he had identified it as a cure for all his ills, she comes to understand. And maybe, maybe it had not been fear of dead that drove him to make Horcruxes, but resentment to his mother, and willingness to prove that he would not let himself die when he had magic at his disposal.

"She didn't let herself die, Tom. Magic can't save everyone-"

Nobody, nobody gets saved by it. It withers everything it touches, it destroys and ruins everything, it

She forces back her thoughts to continue, even though her voice sounds wrong.

"And you don't have to prove anything to her by living longer"

He looks dangerous now, and she knows she's hinting at things she shouldn't know way too much, but all she wants to do is make him _understand._

"What about you, huh?" he asks, and she is confused, "I don't have to prove anything, you say. Well, what about you? Because it seems, you have much things to prove, Hermione. And yet, you never do. You always walk away, just like you were going to earlier. Maybe, I am not the one who is afraid, but you are. Afraid of failure. That's why you never speak your mind, because you are afraid no one will listen. That's why you never do anything, because you are afraid to fail."

She looks at him wide-eyed, and thinks, he's right, he's right, he's right, and damn it, wasn't it supposed to be the other way around, wasn't she supposed to be the one to see through him, instead of him through her.

She chokes back her sobs, as she runs, runs, runs away and she can hear him calling her back, but she doesn't cares, doesn't cares, no she keeps on running, running until she's safe.

Because he's right.

And she is an utter failure.

XXX

_Hermione, dear what are you doing? Why do you have your wand on you?_

She keeps remembering that night she first used the charm she would later come to see as a curse.

Her mother's confused eyes, her father looking resigned, like he had known.

It wouldn't surprise her if he did.

She thought she was saving them, now she knew better.

It was wrong, wrong on so many levels to force someone to forget something.

_"How would you feel if we had used it on _YOU _Hermione, instead of the other way around?!"_

Another voice takes over the memory in her head and she's not too surprised to see her. The one that started this all, and maybe, in a way, ended it too.

But she's not ready yet to relive that particular memory, so she goes back to her parents.

_I love you both so, so much_

_Oh, darling, we know, we love you too_

Loving eyes change into confused ones with one little word.

_Obliviate_

XXX

"I wish to apologise" he says stiffly, formally.

"No, you don't"

"No, I don't" he admits, "I wish to continue shouting at you"

She smiles a little.

"Still, disregarding that what I said was the truth, what you said was also true. And I would like to celebrate my birthday with you, as well as the start of a new year"

"Well, let me get my jacket then"

"Now?" he asks?

"Why not?"

He smiles a little at that, and it's the same smile she used too.

"Very well, then"

Maybe a new year is not all that's new.

XXX

Self revelations are ugly, she decides when she finds themselves shouting again.

It's a couple of months later, and he made a comment about a Muggleborn and she told him she was one too.

"Tell me, then, tell me, what exactly is wrong with being a Muggle?" she shouts.

"Like you don't know!" he shouts back, "like you haven't spend all your life trying to prove yourself to people like me"

Once again he has hit the nail straight on the head. She has lived her life trying to prove herself to others, by studying more, by knowing more, by being better.

But, she's not about to run off again. No, this time he's the one who has to notice the truth.

So she straightens up, and asks calmly

"What do you mean, people like me? Last time I checked you were no pure-blood Wizard either, Tom"

He realises he has walked into a trap, because he narrows his eyes at her.

"Exactly what you were waiting for, isn't it, miss Granger?"

"When you spend so much time with a manipulator, you learn some things, Mr Riddle"

He smirks at her then, and it's the first time he ever has.

It scares the hell out of her.

"Go on, tell me what you already know"

She looks him dead in the eye and slowly pushes her sleeve up, revealing her arm.

His sharp intake of breath proves enough.

Maybe he would want this in the future, but right now, he isn't sure yet.

And that means there is hope of convincing him.

So, she starts her tale.

_Once upon a time there was a boy.._

* * *

**A/N: Count down, five done, two to go. Review please**


	6. Questioning decissions

If you knew that when someone grew old, he would be responsible for a thousand murders and you would be able to stop him, by committing just one, would you do it?

Now, Hermione was a rational girl. She would always think things through, and think them through again, before answering.

Professor McGonagall's warnings had always stayed by her.

_Time is not something to be tampered with, Miss Granger._

Professor McGonagall was also a rational women, and so Hermione had taken her warnings to the heart.

Professor Dumbledore was certainly not rational. He was nuts and completely crazy. But he was also brilliant and wise.

And he had lost a lot.

So when Professor Dumbledore told her to do the very same thing Professor McGonagall told her not to, she did.

She would've done everything to save Sirius an Buckbeak.

But she could've saved so many others, if she had let Harry catch Peter Pettigrew.

And yet, she hadn't let him, not because she was afraid something would happen, no, she knew her past self would know who she was, and not because she was afraid of changing the future, saving Sirius obviously changed the future, no, because Dumbledore had whispered in her ear, seconds before they disappeared: "Let him escape" and she knew what he meant.

As a 14 year old girl, you listen. As a 19 year old girl, you ask questions.

Why had Dumbledore wanted Wormtail to escape? Obviously he had known something like Voldemort rising again would occur. Was it to fulfil the prophecy? Was it to let Wormtail be in Harry's debt?

Or was it just to save three beings, instead of two, albeit innocent or not?

She would never know.

What she did know, was that Dumbledore had a very strange way of thinking, and that she partly blamed him for Tom's metamorphosis. Because Dumbledore was the first magical being Tom had ever encountered. And Dumbledore hadn't accepted him. Tom must've felt hurt, and betrayed by yet another world.

Maybe Dumbledore had recognised Grindelwald in Tom. Maybe he hadn't wanted to make the same mistakes again. Maybe he still felt guilty over Arianna's death and unconsciously blamed it on Tom.

What if Dumbledore had treated Tom differently?

But she wasn't here to play what if games. She knew they had a way of lasting forever, and she didn't have enough time as it was, much less enough to waste by playing mind games.

Every second that ticked by made a little bit more of Tom disappear and a little bit more of Voldemort appear.

She had learned two lessons.

One: that Dumbledore didn't find time _that _important as to leave it alone.

Two: that even though Dumbledore had had the chance to kill Gellert Grindelwald, he hadn't. Instead he had incarcerated him.

And that gave her her answer.

No, she wouldn't.

But if the question was formulated a little bit different, like this:

If you knew that when someone grew old, he would be responsible for a thousand murders and you would be able to stop him, by giving up everything for him, would you do it?

Yes, yes she would, with whole her heart and soul.

And that was what she told Professor McGonagall, when the older woman asked her if she was sure about what she was doing.

She had never been more sure in her life.

Professor McGonagall smiled at her and gave her a hug.

So when her favourite professor walked away to retrieve what she needed, she looked a painting in the eye.

The painting smiled and nodded, with a sad but undeniable twinkle in it's clear blue eyes.

And Hermione knew that she had made the right decision.

XXX

Once upon a time there was a boy, who wanted more than anything to be accepted exactly the way he was.

Impossible, said the Muggles, because the boy was a monster.

Impossible, said the Wizards, because the boy wasn't a pureblood.

Possible said the boy, because he was the Heir of a very important Wizard, and that's all that mattered.

Impossible, said the Muggles, because the boy was still a monster.

Possible, said the Wizards, because the boy was practically a pureblood.

Now that the Wizards had accepted him because of his ancestor, he wanted to do his ancestor honour.

Well, that Wizard had hated Muggles and Muggleborns, and the boy did too. Muggles were cruel, cruel beings, and Muggleborns were cruel beings who tried to bring cruelty into the Wizard world, and steal it from those deserving. His ancestor had left a hidden treasure to help his heir defeat all that was evil, and took form as Muggleborns.

The boy was smart and found the treasure, and put it too use.

Until he accidently killed someone with it, and then covered up his tracks.

The question is: had the boy gotten the taste of killing, or had he killed his Muggle ancestors by accident too?

An answer that would define every interaction that followed between the Heir Of Slytherin and the Brilliant Muggleborn witch.

XXX

"Hermione Granger"

A voice that made her stop dead in her tracks.

"Ginny"

"How dare you? How dare you look at me like you didn't do anything wrong? How dare you look at me like it isn't your fault that Harry and my brother are dead?"

"Ginny, I-"

The redhead slapped Hermione across the face, and then promptly burst out crying.

Hermione dragged her back to the safe house, and tucked her in before turning to leave.

"No, please stay. I need someone to talk to."

It was 20:00

XXX

Tom looks at her, really looks at her.

It has been two years since they met each other, two years since the start of something that naively could be called a _friendship._

And it's the first time ever he looks at her that way.

"You don't know what it was like," he says, "living in a war. You don't know what it was like, having to spend my summers at the orphanage. Hogwarts was my escape, it was a place where I didn't have to read about a war where Muggles against Muggles against Muggles all fought, where I didn't have to flinch every time I heard a sound, where I didn't have to see Jews being collected and send away to never come back, where I didn't have to witness slowly dying people, and bodies left to decay, with haunting lifeless eyes, because what we had done wasn't enough.

It's almost funny really, that he uses the exact same words she uses.

"And you didn't want to have something like that happen in the Wizarding world" she finishes for him.

"I never meant for somebody to die, not really. I just wanted to scare them away. To not have them pollute the Wizarding world. To not have them start a war."

She understands, she really does, but he still doesn't get the bigger picture.

"Wizards have had wars too, Tom"

"But never World Wars, Hermione"

"No," she agrees, "but they have had creature wars. Wars in which they fought to dominate Goblins, elves, centaurs, giants, mermaids and all other _lesser _creatures. The fountain in the Ministry of magic? It's a lie. It's a big lie. How can Wizards claim themselves to be better, than someone like Hitler, when they themselves have fought wars to ensure the eradication of whole other species. It's the same thing, technically."

He is looking at her intently, and she wants, _needs _him to get it.

"There are bad Muggles, sure, but there are also bad Wizards. Just like there are good Muggles and good Wizards. It's human, Tom, human. How awful it may sound, but it is human to have wars and fight for power. Not Wizard, not Muggle, Human.

'And the Muggle-world may be cruel, but the Wizarding world isn't kind either. What about fathers who blast their children of the family tree, just because they made some bad decisions? Or worse, because they are born Squibs? Because of something they can't help? Because of something, that in essence is not even their fault, but the fault of all those inbred ancestors they have? Do you know how many of them are left to die?

'If you do this, Tom, if you fight against Muggleborns, I won't stop you. I won't encourage you, or stand beside you, but I won' stop you. But think about it. By starting this, you'll be starting a war, Tom. Wizards against Wizards against Wizards. It could evolve into a Wizard World War. It could destroy our world, just like the World Wars destroyed the Muggle-world. It could destroy everything you found out, everything _we _found out, all the beautiful magical things."

"Where do you come from?" he asks, with wonder in his voice.

"I come from a place where we have been fighting two years. A place where before this war, there was another war, responsible for this one. Funny, isn't it? The analogies with the Muggle History?"

She doesn't let him answer.

"And before that first war, there was even another one. Significantly smaller, and didn't rage in Britain, but in Germany. A war with the same ideals and end goal, with the same victims targeted, with only a different leader.

'I come from a place where I have learned to associate magic to destruction, and where everyone wants to kill me. Believe me. It's not a nice place to live"

Then, his hands are on her face, stroking away tears she didn't even realise she was crying.

"I'll make sure you don't have to go back" he promises.

Even though he doesn't know that if he follows through with his ideas that world will be his creation, she really, truly smiles at that.

Maybe it will be him who stops her from falling, and not the other way around.


	7. Falling

"It was for your protection, Ginny-"

"Protection," the redhead scoffs "protection that got my brother killed, and send me nearly after him?"

"You were not meant to ever remember us again. You two were both purebloods and not yet official members of the order. You two made a chance"

"I don't care Hermione, I don't care! Don't you know how awful it was? Having flashes of memory, of people you love and not being able to remember? Having people question you and barely knowing why?"

"You were never meant to resist"

Ginny scowls. "Cut the crap, Hermione. Of course we were going to resist. It was our fight too, you know. You had no right to take it from us"

"I know, I know" Hermione mutters, but Ginny continues.

"And forcing us to leave you, even though we loved you? Even though I loved Harry, and Ron loved you. Or was it some elaborate scheme to get us out of your way?"

Hermione gasps.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. But the rest wasn't"

"No the rest wasn't" Hermione agrees.

"How would you feel if we had used it on _you_ Hermione, instead of the other way around?!"

Hermione starts sobbing.

"How would you feel", and now Ginny starts sobbing, too, "if at the end, you were the only one left? You were the only one who stayed behind?"

XXX

"Don't do this, please"

"I'm sorry"

"If you are so sorry, then _don't"_

_"Stupefy" _is the first curse she fires at Ron. She then turns her wand to Ginny.

"No, no, _no. _If you do this, you look me straight in the eye, Hermione. You look me in the eye, you understand? Instead of behaving like a bloody coward. All of you! Mum, Fred wouldn't have wanted this"

Molly starts sobbing, Hermione's wand falters.

"Stupefy" Harry utters behind her, and Ginny falls too.

"Remember what we agreed on, everyone." Lupin's voice echoes through the empty kitchen, "It has to be done, and it has to be done now. Before the Final Battle"

Molly wails, and George and Percy quickly escort her out of the room.

"He's right," Tonks agrees. It is the last time Hermione will hear her voice, even though she doesn't realises then, "you know the only reason we are making you do it is because you're the best"

Hermione nods, she knows.

She takes a deep breath, and then another one.

"Maybe we should leave" Harry says.

She shots him a weak smile. _Oh Harry_

They leave and she points her wand at Ron and Ginny.

It is the last time she will see Ron alive.

Luckily she does not know.

_"Obliviate"_

A moment later, she is rushing up the stairs, with a quick muttered "It's done"

They'll be gone tomorrow.

Maybe they will meet her parents.

Forced cheerful voices follow her, but she slams the door.

Later, she will look in the mirror and put her wand to her temple, wondering how easy it would be.

XXX

_How would you feel if you were the one to stay behind?_

_The only one left_

_Alone_

No parents left, no Golden trio left, no friends, no nothing. Everyone gone.

Faces, ghostly faces in her mind, with lifeless eyes, haunting her, blaming her, because she's alive and they are dead.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She starts running, running, running, but they follow her, whispering it's your fault, it's your fault we are dead, you could've said those words, no difference would've been there, you let us die, you didn't do anything.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Hermione, wake up, wake up"

She gasps, and turns

"Shhh, it's alright, just a dream"

Except it wasn't. Tonks, Harry, Lupin, Dumbledore, Ron, they are all still dead. And there is still a war raging outside, and she's still doing nothing about it.

And that's when she makes her decission.

She will not be the one left behind.

Nobody will.

Because nobody will die.

It is 23:55

The day is almost ending, seconds ticking by as she sits alone.

But it is not the end but the beginning.

Tomorrow she will start making the dial.

And she will change time.

XXX

"There is something I never told you" he says, out of the blue.

His tone is casual, but she knows that what he is going to say will be anything but.

Her heart tightens.

"I never got the taste. I did it out of revenge"

She immediately knows what he is talking about. Regarding him with a careful gaze, she asks a million unspoken questions.

"I brought you something"

A shuffle of footsteps, a hand pressing on her own, something heavy in her hand.

It's a book.

It's a leather bound book.

And no, it can't be, but it is, and he is giving it to her, but

_"Why?"_

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

No, she hasn't. She avoids them like the plague.

Like she would avoid him, if he'd let her.

A hand grips her elbow and steers her towards something.

"Open your eyes"

A girl stands before her. A girl, with hollowed cheeks and chapped lips. A girl with pale skin, and flaccid hair.

It could be any girl, really. She's totally unremarkable.

Totally unrecognisable.

Except for her eyes, her eyes which are broken, haunted and empty.

Eyes that hold a fleeting shadow of what once was a better past.

Eyes that tell a tale, nobody wants to hear.

A tale about losses and death and war.

A tale about loneliness.

A tale about a girl who once called herself Hermione Granger, and used to love life fiercely.

Until it was all taken away from her.

Until she was stripped down to the basic, just a pawn in a war bigger than herself, and had to do anything to survive.

Even if survival meant killing someone else.

Even if survival was only meant for the fittest.

She looks, really looks at herself, and keeps looking for an eternity.

No longer does she cares about bushy hair and buck-tooted teeth.

Her younger self was so _vain_, really. So stupid.

She didn't value what she had.

Didn't know it could all be gone

_In the blink of an eye._

"See what I mean?"

His voice startles her.

"Why would I care for eternal life, if I will end up alone?"

Words are not good enough to express the feeling of gratitude.

So instead she smiles, and empty eyes become a little less empty.

A little less haunted.

A little less broken.

XXX

"you're really going to do it, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am"

"Why?"

Because nobody deserves such a life, such an _existence_, even, because we can't really label what we are doing as living. Because nobody deserves to have everything ripped away from them, not even for their safe keeping, and I committed a cardinal offence. Because nobody deserves this fear, this anticipation of every breath being your last, and every heart beat meaning one closer to death. Because nobody should ever lose so many siblings.

Because nobody should ever have such broken, haunted eyes.

Because I have to do this, because I have to try, because it's my duty to save everyone.

_You … this isn't a criticism, Harry! But you do … sort of … I mean—don't you think you've got a bit of—a—saving-people thing?_

She smiles at the irony, before enveloping the redhead in a tight hug.

And she lies:

"I'll come back"

XXX

_Universes. Only one can exist, but others can be made._

_Time isn't strictly linear, isn't affected by rules, and absorbs minimal ripples._

_Travel back far enough, and maybe another time line will be made._

_The universe will claim you, as to not fall into an eternal loophole, as to not be affected all over again._

_There is no coming back. Once the decision is made, it cannot be undone._

_No one will be remembered._

She turns the dial.

And falls through time.

XXX

"No"

"No?"

"No"

"What do you mean, no?"

"I refuse, Tom. I simply refuse."

"I thought this is what you wanted"

she falters. She did, didn't she? Didn't she?

"I thought so too"

"So, what's the problem?"

"I refuse to be the one who affects you forever Tom. There is no going back. There is no mending the broken fragments afterwards"

"But?"

"But they can be mended now. Only if you really want too"

XXX

_"Legilimens"_

Screams and screams and screams and screams.

Both of them are screaming.

"Make it stop, make it stop"

He falls to the ground.

It's done.

The diary shudders and letters reappear.

A normal diary.

No hidden soul.

"Tom?"

No response

"Tom, no please, don't leave me"

Everyone does.

She turns and walks away.

"Hermione?" his weak voice utters.

She whirls around and says the first thing that comes to mind

"Thank you"

For doing this, for not leaving me, for changing.

For being Tom Riddle, nothing more, nothing less.

Unspoken words are much better sometimes.

Sweet first kisses.

And little broken bits become whole again.

XXX

In the end, it didn't turn out exactly how she expected it.

She didn't stop him from falling, he didn't stop her.

In fact, they keep falling, on an on.

And she hopes they will never stop

_Falling in love._

* * *

**A/N: Well that's it. I know it's nothing really special, but it is the first more chapter story that I've actually finished. And well seven may not be much, and it were pretty short chapters, and they were written easily but still. Thank you for reading till the end, and once more, please review.**


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